The Hunger Games: A Prequel
by sue98
Summary: In the Hunger Games, we focus on the lives of Katniss and Peeta Mellark. Not so much on Haymitch. I want to give readers a peek into Haymitch's childhood, his early life, his Hunger Games and maybe when he becomes a mentor, some insight into previous District Twelve tributes. I've also included Mrs. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark in my characters... Curious? *wink* *wink*
1. Scorching Nightmare

**Since Peeta's father, Mr. Mellark and Katniss's mother, Mrs. Everdeen, weren't given actual first names, I've named them Neil and Raina respectively, for this fic. It's the first of many I hope to write about Haymitch. Hope you guys like it!**

* * *

 **HAYMITCH**

I dreamt of _her_. Again.

It started out like any other ordinary day in my life – the life of a seventeen-year-old runaway, struggling to earn a living in the Seam. I had just woken up a few minutes before and was blearily rubbing the sleep from my eyes when I heard it. Actually not it. When I heard _her_. The sound of her voice was mixed in with the clatter of pots and pans and a sharp sizzling of something on the stove. Chicken by the smell of it. Careful to make little sound, I slipped out of bed, curiosity urging me to pick up the pace and take a look at this stranger in my kitchen. As I pushed open the door into the small room brimming with early morning sunlight, I saw her. Standing in the midst of a white cloud of delicious steam, she sang as she carefully tended the meat, her thick auburn hair pulled back into a loose knot. Her musical laugh echoed in my ears and her clear blue eyes lit up like stars, as she finally saw me standing near the door.

I tried to move. Grab her and run. Run like the wind and never ever come back to this cursed place. But I knew there was no point because I had tried running before, each and every time. My legs wouldn't move.

Just as she took a step towards me, I saw the first spark flame up behind her. I was screaming now, yelling at her to hurry up, to take my hand, to do anything except smile at me with that serene expression on her face. As if to say nothing was wrong, that I'm going to be alright. As if I didn't have to witness my own sister lighting up like a human torch, as I stood there watching helplessly. The last thing I remember were her eyes, glowing like sapphires from amongst the smoke, as my whole world was engulfed in flames.

"Mitch! _Haymitch!"_

"Maybe we should try the cold water again. It worked beautifully last time and he wasn't even angry. Much."

My nerves were on fire. I was still there screaming at her, screaming with her as she writhed and we were both burning and burning…

"Oh for God's sake – HAYMITCH!"

I jumped up from the bed, my head slamming into something, convinced that there was nothing left of me except charred skin, smoke, and ashes. There was just so much heat…

"You were dreaming! It was a dream! A dream Abernathy! Now calm the hell down before you take someone's eye out! You probably gave poor Raina a concussion, and she was the only one stopping me from dousing you in a bucket of cold water." Neil. I'd recognize that mocking, sarcastic voice anywhere. Relief poured through me. There were times he could be an arrogant jerk, but Neil would never let me burn.

"Next time I'll let you soak him, that I can promise," muttered a voice from near my bed.

Having assured myself that I was in reality _not_ a crispy critter, I managed a slight smile in Raina's direction. Keeping a safe distance away from me, she slowly pulled herself into a sitting position managing to throw a deep scowl in my direction in the process. I braced myself.

"Haymitch Abernathy, I have a BRUISE because of you. And Neil will you stop braying like a donkey and drag Haymitch down for breakfast. He looks like he's seen a ghost." If only you had any idea how right you are, I thought, as she stormed out of the room.

Once she was gone, Neil sprawled onto my bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes as he put his feet up on my pillow.

"So. When are you going to tell her about your dream?"

* * *

"I'm sure she already knows", I said, trying my best not to sound defensive.

After seventeen years of practice at trying to maintain a neutral, indifferent demeanor, secrets and lies were almost second nature to me. But this last week had been especially hard because it was years since I had last kept a secret from Raina.

Raina. From afar, Raina appeared to be the ideal image of a girl raised in District Twelve – clear gray eyes, a slim body, and thick dark curls that perfectly framed her delicate face. Now I repeat the words " _from afar_ "… because once you get to her, the girl was the opposite of perfect. Stubborn in the extreme, with an attitude that could annoy the devil himself; with a smile, I realized she was a prettier, feminine version of myself. She was also the object of Neil's affection.

"Mitch. Look at me. You should tell her," said Neil, rising from the bed. He was a few inches shorter than me now; during the past few weeks I had outgrown him. "We only have three days before the games begin. In case you forgot, we still have to be there. And she deserves to know in case something happens…"

"Two days," I corrected automatically.

His voice trailed off into an ominous silence, as the despair that emanated from thoughts of the games hung over us like a fog.

The Games. The reason why I had spent fourteen years of my life living under the care of an abusive father; why I still had nightmares of my sister as she burned herself to death; why I was now a teenage runaway trying to scrape a living in district twelve, rather than a kid going to prep school in three. The onslaught of memories makes me shudder. I had spent three months living as a fugitive, trying to survive on stolen scraps and the occasional game in the forests, hiding from every living person as I made my way across nine districts. I had finally managed to crawl into the borders of district 12, where Raina and Neil eventually found me at the edge of the forest, in an unconscious state, and took me to the others. I owed my life to these people – my people – who risked their whole district by keeping me safe and raising me as their own. That's why stealing from the Peacekeepers feels so much better; I pretend that I'm paying them back by robbing the people, who are responsible for their unhappy state.

"It'll all be over soon," whispered a voice, gently near my ear. I knew who she was even before she tugged my hand and pulled me around to face her. Placing the breakfast tray on my bed, Raina looked into my eyes, easing the tension in my shoulders, as the three of us assembled on the sheets, trying not to dwell too much on our fates.


	2. A Celebration

**Dear Readers,**

 **It has literally been months since I've last written. I'm so sorry. I won't bore you with excuses of our busy lives, that you know all too well. Please bear with me. I hope you'll forgive me after reading this :)**

 **Sue**

* * *

 **RAINA**

My grandfather was present on the day they declared the Hunger Games. Actually 'present' would be a sort of understatement – he had been among the few who helped establish the Games, a member of President Snow's outer circles if you may. I'd heard my dad tell the story many times: The Games were established as a method to keep the districts in check so that the people of Panem remembered that they lived under the rule of the Capitol, and as a result, 'tragedies' like the one in District Thirteen would never happen again. Did I tell you about District Thirteen?

At first, there were thirteen Districts in Panem, each serving to fulfill a specific role for the benefit of the Capitol. That was before the so – called – tragedy occurred: if you could call the total annihilation of a whole district and its entire people using nuclear bombs a tragedy that is. That's literally what happened to them; when the people in Thirteen rebelled against the Capitol they were destroyed in the war that followed. We can still see smoke rising from the rubble in the footage they regularly televise from the district.

A loud clash of porcelain on metal snaps me back to reality. I had just about decided to investigate before Mitch's hurried shout of "I've got it!" changes my mind. Shaking my head, I relax back into the chair. I mean honestly! How could a boy possibly be so loud around me and quite as a shadow everywhere else? The thought makes me smile despite myself; Haymitch was full of mysteries, had been since the day he first arrived.

We had found him in the most unlikely of places, during a curiously coincidental moment in time, exactly a week after the 48th Hunger Games ended. The games had lasted a long time that year, extending just over a month. I guess that's what happens when you throw a bunch of tributes into a frozen valley with absolutely no source of heat – they die slowly and the audience gets bored. Anyway, Mitch was sprawled right at the edge of the forest when we found him. At first, we thought he was dead; and given a few more minutes without water, he would have been. Luckily for him, Neil had enough water left in his satchel to keep him breathing and then half drag, half carry Mitch back to the bakery, where he lived. That was another thing about District Twelve; living at the edge of Panem, a good distance away from the other districts had given us different values. Silence was considered equal to honor among our people, and not a single soul breathed a word about Haymitch. Soon, when he started making himself useful, the matter was altogether forgotten.

The sound of clomping boots announced Neil's arrival, and right on cue he was striding into the room, a maniacal grin plastered on his face.

"Haymitch, if you're done banging the dishes, you can join me and Raina as we start the celebrations early, before President Snow starts playing with our lives," he said with a smirk, and before I knew it he was pulling me of my window seat and dragging a half – soaked Haymitch with the other hand.

"We are now officially celebrating!" he announced triumphantly. And for half a second, I let myself believe him.

* * *

Turns out that by 'we' it was to be only myself and Haymitch, since half way up to the meadow Mr. Mellark decided to pay a visit to his devilishly rebellious son who had been skipping his work in the Pastry shop for the past week. My lips pulled up into a smile at his sullen expression, and he left with a promise to meet us in the forest by dusk.

We set off for the meadow enveloped in a comfortable silence. I could tell Mitch didn't want to talk right now – whenever he got that dreamy, far-away look in his eyes, he was too deep inside his thoughts to keep up a normal conversation. The sweet fragrance of Primroses and Snowdrops welcomed us into the meadow. I had spent most of my childhood here, curled up on the soft green grass, more often than not with a pencil and sketchbook carefully etching the perfect petals onto the rough paper. When Haymitch arrived it didn't take him long to discover the more practical uses of the meadow: within the week he discovered the slack section of the curled wire fence that separated our district from the woods and loosened it further, creating a small man – sized gap for us to go through. In the course of a month, all three of us had learned how to navigate the bushy terrain. With the help of a scavenged knife and two of my father's bows, we each learned to hunt and keep both ourselves and our families alive.

I stopped at the curling barbed wires of the fence and looked up in surprise noticing for the first time that Haymitch still hadn't crossed the meadow. He was still standing amongst the wildflowers, staring at me with his handsome features arranged into an unfamiliar expression, one I had yet to decipher.

"Aren't you coming?"

Why is he still staring at me, I wondered, beginning to feel slightly self-conscious.

"You go ahead. I'll be right with you."

He looked away then, facing away from me and settling himself down onto the grass. I shrugged and crouched down to go through the hole he had made in the fence. If he was so stubbornly intent on brooding and being mysterious all the fucking time, who was I to stop him?

 _He's your friend you silly girl. It's your job to find out what's troubling him._

"No, it's not!" I yelled into the open air and stomped towards the woods, squishing the reasonable voice that ordered me to turn back towards the dark, stormy man I had left behind. I collected my White Oak bow from our marked hollow tree at the edge of the clearing and set off into the green wilderness, tuning out everything except for the lustrous sounds of the forest.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for your support. Your, views, follows, favs and reviews mean the world to me *glowing in happiness*. I'll try to update as often as I can. Happy Reading!**


	3. The Last Time

**HAYMITCH**

 _You're a complete fool, Abernathy. You know that right?_

I ignored the obnoxious voice in my head and continued to pick Primroses, occasionally adding a Snowdrop to the small bouquet in my hand. Raina loved these flowers, even her very presence smelled of them. I don't know why I'm suddenly picking the freshest, most vibrant ones to give her, but seeing as there are only a mere number of hours left till the Reaping… I have to tell her. We've been avoiding this conversation for weeks now; there was a good chance that today would be my last day with them, that the day after tomorrow I could be on my way to the Capitol to amuse Snow and his wretched people. And somehow, this seems like the right way to do it.

Feeling quite proud at the beautiful collection of wildflowers in my hands, I quickly fastened them together with a bit of grass, tucked the bouquet neatly into my belt, and strode into the forest after my charmingly annoyed friend.

I've been coming here for almost four years… but from the second I stepped into the thriving maze of green I knew I belonged. As odd as it may sound, the humming electricity and polished metal of District 3, where I had spent fourteen years of my life, never quite felt like home. Inhaling the scent of fresh pine and earth, I soundlessly made my way through the lush green, already half way along the worn path to our traps.

Unfortunately, my body already knew where it was going, leaving my mind free to dwell on the horrors that waited in the next few days.

It's been five decades since Snow started his rule. We all know the stories – at first there used to be lots of districts (formerly known as countries) before many were destroyed in the Great Famine and the War for survival that followed. In the end, Panem was all we had left. Snow was elected as President and he made the District system, the Capitol, and the Hunger Games. It was to maintain order he said – and the nation believed him.

Those of us like Raina whose Grandfather had served in the Council knew better – it was all lies. The people who opposed Snow were killed. The Games were his way of keeping control so that nobody ever opposed him.

My mood lightened at the sight of the traps; two fat squirrels and a rabbit lay nestled in Neil's amazing handiwork.

The kid had been a natural at snares, even before we had learned how to hunt.

 _Good. He'll need to be if he's reaped and has to fight against twenty three other tributes to live._

And with a bouquet of flowers, three dead animals and a gloomy thought in mind, I set off to find Raina.

* * *

"About time you got here."

She was sitting at the edge of a steep cliff, her legs dangling precariously off the edge. Over the years this had become our cliff, our special place for the three of us to escape from our uncertain lives. I settled down beside her, removing my belt and helping myself to the large number of mulberries she'd gathered.

"For you," I said handing her the bunch of blue and white flowers.

Her eyes widened and her face lit up like a flame, as she gently took the buds into her hands.

"Thank – "

"Don't mention it," I said, pleased and slightly embarrassed by her reaction.

"You could at least let me thank you hare-brain," she said punching my arm.

I took a deep breath and looked into her clear, gray eyes, still sparkling in delight at the makeshift bouquet. They didn't make it any easier.

"Raina there's something I have to tell you."

The light dimmed from the swirling gray irises, realization quickly taking its place.

"We both know what's coming, that today might as well be our last time here – " I raked my hands through my hair, fear lodging the words in my throat.

"No Mitch STOP. Stop right now. I know what you're going to say. It's the same every year – twenty four tributes and you, me, Neil, May it could be any of us in that horrid ring and there is nothing, NOTHING we can do about that except use the time we have left."

Her voice had risen with her temper, the words she had kept so tightly contained pouring out of her in a rush, her eyes glistening with moisture.

"I refuse to let you spend the time we have left thinking about it!" I gently took her warm hand in mine, wrapping my arm around her waist. We lay there with her head resting on my shoulder, comfortable in our small world while dusk fell.

* * *

"Mitch! Raina! BOTH OF YOU WAKE THE HELL UP!"

I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the dim shape of Neil standing above me. He was shaking.

"We fell asleep waiting for you. What's wrong?"

 _Oh so you mean apart from the obvious Mitch? Like you sleeping with Raina instead of your best friend whose in love with her? How clever of you to ask._

"It's not what it looks like I swear," I began, cursing myself for the sheer stupidity of the situation. We had a day left and I managed to ruin it by being dumb.

Neil didn't seem to hear. He was shaking even more now.

"For the 50th Annual Hunger Games, the second Quarter Quell of Panem, twice the number of tributes will be chosen from each district. The rules have changed. They've doubled the numbers Mitch and they're announcing it right now."

* * *

 **Guys I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story so far! It would be great if you could leave a review with your opinions, suggestions, and comments - all your help is highly appreciated. Desperately waiting for the Games to begin? Hint: In the next Chapter ;)**


	4. The Reaping

**NEIL**

Have you ever cared for someone so much that your very core aches at the hint of their laugh? Then imagine knowing that your beloved is in love with someone else. Imagine having to spend every day seeing her fall in love with your best friend. And if that isn't enough, imagine finding out that in less than 24 hours, all three of you along with some other poor soul could very well be dragged into a sport that involves killing each other in the most brutal way possible.

No wonder I have a headache.

They had televised the announcement of the Quarter Quell yesterday. The voice of Ceaser Flickerman – the host of the Games for the past five years – boomed all over the city, courtesy of the huge screens and speakers that had been set up in the square. I was at Father's pastry shop, finishing off the icing on a white wedding cake when the anthem began to blare. Ceaser appeared with his blood red hair (he dyed it a different color every year) and said the words that will change my life forever: twice the number of tributes will be chosen from each district this year.

Two loud knocks resonated on the door before Mitch let himself in. He was dressed in Reaping clothes: a pale blue shirt tucked in at the waist, and navy blue pants Raina had bought for him from the market last week.

"Ready?" he asked, warily appraising my clenched fists.

"As I'll ever be. Let's go."

We locked the door and set off to embrace our fates.

The square was packed with people: every man, woman, boy, or child, unless near death, were bound by law to be present at the Reaping. Peacekeepers went from door to door to check if anyone had remained behind; if found they were killed. Haymitch and I headed up towards the front of the square where an area had been squared off to keep the 12 to 18-year-olds separate from their families. No need for family drama when you're reaped.

The Mayor is ascending the stage now, reading from his small script. We all know what he's going to say: the history of Panem, how the Districts rose out from the ruins of the Great War, how Snow was elected as ruler, the second war against district 13 who were apparently 'rebels' in the new system, and finally after their complete and utter eradication how the Games were created to foster bonding between the Districts so that nothing like the events of 13 occurred ever again.

I bet you can see exactly now how bullshit it all is. The worst part about the Games is that President Snow demands for the whole thing to be treated like a celebration – as if snatching forty-eight children away from their families and forcing them to fight to the death is something for the people to rejoice about. Although, some districts do take it as a celebration, a real event: Rumour has it that the tributes from Districts 1 and 2, the richest districts in Panem, are trained to kill, hunt and survive in the Games from childhood. Not surprising since they have a long line of Victors to show for it.

"It is both a time for celebration and for thanks," begins the Mayor, in is deep, rasping voice. His seventeen – year – old daughter, Maysilee Donner is also taking part in the reaping. There's close to no chance she's being picked – one of the many advantages of being the wealthiest girl in the District is that she has no need for Tesserae. I can see her standing next to Raina in the girls stands. She doesn't notice me, but Raina does and shoots me a nervous smile and wave before the Mayor calls us all to attention again. He's introducing our new escort, Felicity Sparkles, some poor newbie who's probably stuck with us this year, the most unspectacular district in Panem.

A tall, slender woman in a bright purple wig mounts the stage in teetering high heels. Before I go on there's something you should probably know: Capitol people look nowhere near like we do. The lady in question is a superb example of this: aside from her violet headdress, crimson lipstick, and garish makeup, she was dressed in a sheer, sparkly cloth that covered her body from head to toe. Her skin was clearly visible beneath it and displayed a myriad of tattoos wrapping around her whole form in intricate swirls. I tried and failed to not focus on her other parts which could also be clearly seen. Nudity meant nothing to the Capitol.

"Happy Hunger Games! As you all know, today we celebrate not only a Hunger Games but also the magnificent second Quarter Quell, in which twice the number of tributes are to be participating! How exciting is this?!," she squeals in a shrill, soprano voice.

Noting the stony faces who are mentally murdering her, she quickly adds "May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" and goes on to exclaim how honored she is to be in our beautiful district ("beautiful", yeah right, we're the mining district and the poorest in Panem; our streets, nails, and homes are covered in coal dust and she goes around saying 'beautiful'), again how exciting it all is and how happy we are to participate in this _wonderful_ celebration. Her whole form is angled towards the front camera that's televising the Reaping live.

"Ladies first," says Felicity and moves over to the right reaping bowl.

I close my eyes, dreading her next words praying with every fiber of my being that it's not Raina.

Felicity puts her hand into the bowl and withdraws two slips.

"Please give a big hand for our two female tributes: Miss Asteria Whitewood and Miss Maysilee Donner!"

A smattering of applause rippled through the crowd. She's safe. Raina's safe. It's not her. I exhale in relief.

I look at the girls' stands and see Maysilee hugging Raina before she's escorted towards the stage by Peacekeepers. I can't help but feel a little shook - Maysilee had been a close friend of Raina's and she had hung out with us on several occasions, though I hadn't exactly been friendly towards her. It was hard to like someone who was so obviously different from you. As she gracefully moves towards the stage, her white silk dress trailing along the ground, I feel the slightest twinge of admiration for the blond haired girl who had carefully schooled her face into a blank, indifferent mask, aware that her every action was being taped.

Asteria was another case altogether: she was fiercely clinging to someone else, loud sobs reverberating across the Square. The crowd sighed unhappily, angry whispers floating around like they always did whenever a twelve-year-old was chosen. A Peacekeeper pried her away and she trudged up to take her place beside Maysilee.

"Aww there, there little one," cooed Felicity, "you're going to the biiig city of lights where there's good food and really nice clothes!" she said as if the girl was going to the Capitol on a vacation.

Asteria gave her a look of pure disbelief and shifted closer to Maysilee who put an arm around her and whispered something to calm her down.

"Now then if there any volunteers for our two beautiful tributes, now is your time to step up!"

Not one person moved. The Mayor's face turned sickly white and his wife's heart-wrenching sobs pierced the eerie silence. I knew for a fact that Asteria has an older sister; however on Reaping day it was common for family ties to reach their limit.

"It's time for our dashing male tributes!" said Felicity with forced verve, doing her best to ignore the emotional scene around her. She quickly dipped her hand into the Male tribute's bowl.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," said a gruff voice from behind me. I looked up into a familiar pair of blue eyes and a mop of pale blond hair: my brother, Matthew Mellark. I nodded, my stomach twisting into knots, afraid of my voice cracking if I dared to say much else.

 _Not me. Please don't let it be me. Not me not me not me_

"Citizens of District 12 put your hands together for our second Quarter Quell's male tributes, Mr. Haymitch Abernathy and Mr. Neil Mellark!"


	5. The Capitol

**HAYMITCH**

I have been sentenced to kill my best friend. 


End file.
